Shillelagh Law
by Reigen Doki
Summary: A young Jim Kirk celebrates his birthday in a San Francisco bar and teaches a Vulcan cadet something about bar room brawls. Set before the movie. Rated for the language.


**Don't own.**

**This is set before the movie. Inspired by Kirk's apparent inability to get acquainted with anyone while at the academy. Other than McCoy.**

… … .. . .. … …

"Fuck." James T. Kirk was never one to do things by halves.

Even his cursing was emphatic. He kicked his shoe against the ground, sending up a puff of arid dirt along with his vulgarities. In the same motion, he swiped his shirtsleeve across his face, clearing the small trail of blood from his lip.

"Your ticket, citizen." The robotic officer extended the PADD in his hand.

"Yeah, yeah. Fuck." Jim swore, singing his name on the PADD.

"A copy is being sent to your provided contact information."

"Yeah. I know. Can I go yet?"

"You are dismissed, citizen."

Jim glared daggers as the robot returned to its bike and rode off. Oh, sure he had deserved the ticket. He _was_ going almost fifty over the speed limit. That didn't justify the cop shoving him to the ground. What good was a robot cop if you couldn't get in its face a little and let out your frustrations? Stupid city programmers. At least the people back in Iowa understood going a bit fast and being cocky.

With one last swear for the current situation, notably not in Standard, Jim climbed back on his bike. This day was not going as well as he wanted.

For starters, it was a week after his birthday. He never did bother dropping in on his mom on his actual birthday. It was always a bit better to celebrate a week later. It was not, as many people assumed, because his mom and Sam made it uncomfortable for him by mourning his father. Rather, he found it too cheerful. Everyone wanted to say how wonderful he was, and how he looked just like him, and how he'd get over his rebel streak just like his dad did. Everyone was far too chipper.

A man died, damn it, just so a bunch of people could live. His birthday shouldn't be a Federation wide holiday, like everyone in his home town and especially his family seemed to treat it. Instead, he wanted a quiet affair. But no. He shared his birthday with his dad's death and would have given anything for it to be a day of mourning, rather than a festival.

The next blight on his day was, to no wonder, that he had visited his mother and Sam. That meant driving all the way out to _the_ wretched city, meeting Sam who came in on a flight, and dealing with the fallout party. A warp core breach left smaller messes than his mother celebrating his birthday.

The only good that came of seeing her was that he found out she was stationed on a new vessel leaving in a month. She was finally ready to broach space again and just in time for a five year mission. That was at least five years he could make himself scarce from celebrating birthdays.

Sam didn't care much for the fanfare either.

Now, after sunset, he was bored, frustrated, and not looking forward to going back to his empty hotel room. There was an easy solution to this. If he went to a bar, he could find _something_ to do, in many, many senses of the word. Frankly, though, he wanted trouble the most.

He'd been told once he was made for attracting trouble. The description had been…pointed, to say the least, but humorous.

Apparently, he tilted his chin forward when he addressed people, presenting it nicely for a punch. His blue eyes were, again according to his source, a perfectly unusual hue that served to snap patience in half. In addition, his voice was a particular timber which, love or hate it, you wanted to hear screaming and moaning. Obviously this worked both for and against him, as potential one night stands lost inhibitions and clothes and potential fights lost their potential and just turned into all out brawls.

Frankly, that sounded like heaven just about then.

With a lopsided grin, he started up his bike. At least it was a lot easier finding Starfleet bars in San Francisco than it was in Riverside.

… .. .

The music was loud, not something he particularly liked either, which was a shame. He listen to a lot of stuff, but even he had his limits for vulgarities. Limits that jumped out and slapped him in the face with up beat O-pop. Trust the Orions to throw in a few Klingong curse words that could make _him_ blush.

Pop, of any kind, wasn't really his thing anyway.

He was about to turn around and head back out when someone changed the jukebox. A raucous, Scottish drinking song came on and he grinned. That, he could handle.

With the practiced ease of a man not yet ready to bump shoulders and pick fights, Jim slid up to the bar. Red suited men and women flitted around him, ordering drinks and discussing anything but the academy. As he waited on his Altairian brandy, he looked the crowed over. Mostly humans. Well, he knew how to insult humans just fine. In a couple of drinks he'd feel like causing trouble. For now, he wanted to drink. Not get drunk, just drink a bit. Once he'd exhausted that, assuming he hadn't picked up a fling, he'd start shoulder blocking people or hitting on obviously taken women.

With a quick pass of credits, he started slowly on his first glass. It was pleasant, warm and just the right mix of sweet and spice against his lips. The cut barely stung under the application of alcohol and he was inclined to forget it even existed.

So observation was the first order of his night. Jim never got into a fight without looking into the area he'd be using as an impromptu arena.

There was the bar, obviously. It was nice, sturdy metal. Probably not very forgiving. The stools around it were bolted down though, so a bonus there. Tables ringed the establishment, loosely filling the remainder of the space. The tables were bolted down, but not the chairs. Oh well. No open dance floor, which meant he couldn't direct the fight there, but also meant he didn't have to worry about trying to get through it if he needed a quick escape. The walls were…what the hell?

Jim did a double take, finally looking the establishments walls over. Various melee weapons from probably everywhere they could get their hands on were fastened _securely_ to the walls. Jeez, that was a well thought out plan. Did they have Orion fighters come in and try to yank them off to make sure they were on right, or were they just stupid?

Gleefully, it occurred to him that maybe they'd never had a real fight in there.

Not that he wanted weapons getting involved in the mix, but there was nothing like christening a normally peaceful bar with a little bit of blood. Not that he wouldn't settle for the experienced reactions of a jaded barkeep.

A cheery lad, yelling over his shoulder in a heavy Scottish brogue was ordering rounds of scotch for his friend directly into Jim's ear. He shied away a bit, glancing over at the oblivious man. He was still coated in a bit of grease. How one managed to find grease in a starship escaped him, but all that mattered was that it identified the guy as engineering. Definitely not who he was picking a fight with. He had a bit of a soft spot for engines. And the man looked too damn happy to fight anyway.

There were a few disgruntled people milling around though. Should prove fodder for a proper bar brawl if he played his cards right. The drinking songs would fit so well with the scene.

A small group a couple of stools down the bar caught his eye. Big guy, brown hair, wicked looking face. Little brunette woman with him, girlfriend, looked a bit unhinged. Another brunette, not as large, but a better build, bored. And one with black hair, also bored, wiry, but not small. Lean brunette, pretty features, _not_ there with any one of them specifically. Bingo. He found his group.

His eyes trailed back over the entirety of the bar as he considered his next move. Obviously finish his drink, but order another, down it and say hi, walk right over after he's finished, or buy a drink for just the girls and wait?

Jim froze, standing from his seat with a start. Every thought of a fight was temporarily sidelined by what caught his attention walking in through the door. What, not who. He didn't recognize the guy at all, but he was a hell of a sight.

He was tall, clean, sharp lines making up his body. A cutting figure in even the horrors of academy red. Normally that wouldn't be that much of an eye catcher. The cool, detached look on his face and unusual haircut weren't actually notable either. It was the ears. They tapered to a delicate point, sharp and just as cutting as the rest of him. Jim found his eyes riveted on the man's ears.

What was a Vulcan doing in Starfleet? What was a Vulcan doing in a bar?

Jim tensed, watching as the man made his way to the bar, sitting on the opposite side of the group he had been planning to make a ruckus with. Oh, yeah…he had wanted to fight, hadn't he?

"Kali-fal, please."

Jim shuddered, as much at the drink order as the deep, smooth voice issuing it. Any guy who sounded like that and drank Romulan ale was normally the prefect choice for a bar fight. That kind of voice set his nerves on fire, singing with the urge to silence it. It was everything he hated about Starfleet personified. Disappointment, amused indifference, smugness, perfection. And that drink order would knock most men flat on their asses, and then pick them back up with a nasty look on their face.

This guy was a Vulcan though. Too strong, too smart, and too damn indifferent to fight. Damn.

"The fuck is that Vulcan doing in here?" The brunette with a girlfriend hissed.

Jim coiled on himself, ready to spring into movement. Were they seriously trying to pick a fight? Because there was no way he hadn't heard them. The man had ignored them though, so maybe he was right. Maybe he didn't care.

"Hell if I know." The other brunette growled. "Maybe he's just here to show off the stick he's got shoved up his ass."

"Fucking Vulcans." The black haired one agreed. "No better than Romulan trash."

"Hey! According to Starfleet regulations 23-"

"Shut up." The first man interrupted the little brunette that he wasn't dating. "We know. We don't care."

She hissed, sipping at her drink indifferently. With a wide grin, the man patted his girlfriend's hip and told the girls to stay there. He and his two men approached the silent Vulcan.

"The fuck you doing in here?" The second brunette took point, leaning on the bar next to him.

"I do not understand your query."

Shit. _Jim_ wanted to punch him for that comment. Was that what it was like for most people, talking to him?

"He asked what you think you're doing in here, Vulcan." The black haired man spit. "Answer him."

Said Vulcan raised an eyebrow and inclined his head. "I am currently drinking a glass of Kali-fal and observing the behavior of the patrons here."

"Observing?" The first man barked in a laugh. "Just what do you think gives you the right to observe me?"

"My observations are not limited to just you. However, to satisfy your curiosity, you are in a public place. If you do not wish to be observed, the logical answer would be to leave."

Jim was glad he had some control over himself, because alcohol coming out of your nose was not fun. Choking on it laughing wasn't much better, but what can you do? The three men were enraged. The girls they had been with looked bored. A small part of him just couldn't stand the thought of not being the cause of a bar fight about to happen. So he set his drink down.

"Hello ladies." Jim drawled, sliding up next to them. "You look bored. Need some entertainment?"

"Are you offering?" The single brunette gave him a blatant once over and smirked.

He was well aware of the fact that much of the bar had gone silent. Good.

"Well, if those gentlemen you came with aren't providing, I'd be more than happy to help." He said innocently, flashing his eyes over the both of them flirtatiously. "What are your names?"

"Janice Lester." The taken girl giggled.

"Areel." The other offered another once over.

"No last name? Funny. It's usually the other way around." Jim smirked. "Lovely meeting both of you."

"Hey, Fucker." The first brunette growled, moving to stand behind him. "Don't talk to my girlfriend."

Jim rolled his eyes and patted the man on the shoulder. "You don't own her. She can talk to who ever she likes."

He looked back at the girls in time to see the impressed look on Areel's face. And the horrifyingly psychotic smile that smacked of stalker tendencies on Janice's face. Oh wonderful.

"Where was I? Oh yeah." Jim grinned at the girls, feeling the man behind him tense. "Can I interest you ladies in anything?"

"You're about to get your ass kicked." Areel observed smartly.

Jim shrugged. "Maybe afterwards? Oof."

The man yanked him around, slamming his fist into Jim's stomach. With a sigh, he slammed his fist into the man's face. The bartender was shaking his head, leaning against the bar and holding his communicator. Ah. So he was a veteran. That gave him a bit less time to work with, most likely. The man attacking him stumbled back into someone's table, sending them off in outrage.

A few small scuffles broke out as he expertly dodged a fist from the second brunette and an elbow from the black haired man. The Vulcan was watching him with a look of interest. He wasn't really sure how he noticed that, but it made his stomach flip. He'd never really been the type to show off before, but he found himself shivering in anticipation. The more he disliked what the audience represented, the better he liked to do in his little fights.

The drinking songs redoubled over the speakers and he noticed the Scottish engineer pouring alcohol over people rolling on the floor while laughing his ass off. He could really learn to like that guy.

"Hold still you little bastard!" The first man howled.

"Why would I do that?" Jim laughed, throwing his elbow into the man's nose.

Two strong sets of arms came from behind, wrapping him up by the shoulders. He dropped twisting as he went down and dragging them with. With a slight grimace, he forced his arms together, smacking their heads against one another when they held on. That had strained a few muscles, but was well worth it as they fell back, dazedly rubbing their heads.

"Unf." Jim exhaled sharply as the toe tip of a regulation boot met his stomach.

The first man was standing over him, grinning manically as he brought his knee up to hit Jim's ribs, hands on his back halting his upward progress. Jim kicked, hard, sending the man back against a pillar. He jolted when the man reached up and forced a decoration from the wall. It was something pointy and sharp.

"Don't even think about it!" The bartender hollered, but was ignored.

All the side fights had stopped, people watching in awestruck horror. Jim's eyes widened a bit and he took a protective step back.

"Hey now. Brawl etiquette says no real weapons are allowed." Jim pulled up all the bravado he could muster, managing to look mildly affronted. "Put that down and use a chair, or a bottle of alcohol."

"Fuck brawl etiquette." The man snarled. "I'm going to kill you."

"Whoa!" Jim yelped, ducking back from the attack.

A sharp point caught the edge of his shirt, ripping a clean line through the cloth. A pink line raised along his arm, only a scratch, and not bleeding, but enough to raise an alarm in Jim's head. This guy seriously was trying to kill him.

He hissed in alarm as one of the men he'd dropped previously caught his pant leg, causing him to trip. His shoulder connected hard with the ground, sending a shockwave of pain through his nerves. He gritted his teeth and scrambled back. The man raised his weapon to shouts of protest, ready to cleave Jim in two. It was then that the young Vulcan put his hand on the other man's shoulder in what appeared to be a warning gesture. The man promptly collapsed.

Since when could Vulcans knock people out by touching them?

Well either way he was grateful. He found himself grinning up at the man and receiving an almost amused eyebrow raise in return. Then he was being hauled up by an pleased Scotsman who's name he really should get. A loud bang alerted the bar patrons to someone angrily slamming the door open. In stepped an ancient man, dressed in the regulation black of a Starfleet professor.

Jim's mouth went dry.

"Alright." The man called out, eyeing the now ridged students. "Who all am I here to collect?"

The bartender grinned, waving his hand to the worst of the mess. "Stiles, Finney, and Garrovick are the worst of my problems. Got in a fight with this kid here and tried to actually kill him."

Jim went very straight when the bartender gestured to him. The professors eyes fell on him, and widened. Slowly, without saying anything, he took a few steps forward, like Jim would disappear if he made any fast movements or spoke to him. Over all, Jim wasn't so sure that was inaccurate.

"Is it already that time of year again, Jim?" The man asked, voice very quiet.

"Guess so, Archer." Jim grimaced, noting the way everyone's eyes darted between the pair.

"Having a good birthday?" Archer asked sarcastically.

"My birthday was a week ago."

"And you're celebrating tonight." Archer reminded him. "So it's a valid question."

"Look." Jim growled. "No offense, but I don't really like being seen getting all chummy with you, so I'm going to leave now."

"Jim." Archer's tone turned cold, warning.

"Nuh-uh." Jim shook his head. "One person trying to take my life is enough for tonight. Tell your beagles I say hi."

"You aren't leaving yet Jim."

"Sure I am." Jim caught the confused look he was receiving and felt a stupid, giddy plan leap into his mind. "And I'm going to steal your Vulcan while I'm at it."

"What?" Archer looked like he was having a stroke, face at an utter loss for what it wanted to convey.

The Vulcan next to him looked bewildered, which was a neat trick since he wasn't doing anything. Jim winked at him and grinned, earning both eyebrows to be raised. With a goodbye salute to the bar patrons, he grabbed the other man's arm and bolted for the door. In a daze of confusion, he followed.

"James Tiberi-" Archer's yell was cut off by the door slamming shut as Jim bolted into the parking lot.

"What is the purpose for your actions?"

"Who knows? Who cares? It's fun." Jim laughed, swinging a leg over onto his bike. "Hop up."

"You have no proper safety gear, I do not know you, and this is an unsafe mode of travel." The man looked affronted.

"You know, it isn't really nice to say no to a guy you just saved in a bar." Jim winked. "Now hurry up before Archer picks his jaw up off the floor and comes after me."

The man looked torn, darting his eyes back to the door and then the bike in front of him. "I do not-"

"Oh come on." Jim grinned. "I'll give you a ride back to the academy. Promise."

"…Very well."

Jim grinned as the Vulcan climbed on the back of the bike, looking for the world like he had no idea what he was supposed to do. Jim caught his wrists and yanked him forward so he was sitting properly and then wrapped the stiff appendages around his torso. For the second time that night surprise had worked in his favor when dealing with this guy. He revved the engine, looking back at the door that had just opened to a uproar.

"Hold on tight." He instructed, and ripped out of the parking lot.

The arms around him tightened immensely, causing his ribs to creak in protest. He laughed, instantly reminded of the first, and only, time he took Sam for a ride. His brother had clung to him the entire time, cursing up a storm and declaring him mentally unstable.

"You are traveling at an unsafe and illegal speed." The Vulcan declared.

"You don't say?" Jim laughed, glancing over his shoulder at the man riding with him.

Said man's eyes widened with horror. "Please keep your eyes on the road!"

Jim had already complied though, knowing he couldn't get away with a full second of that. "Yeah, sure. No problem."

He sped up a bit, weaving between traffic and felt the other man's arms tighten a bit more and his head fall to Jim's shoulder. He flushed, bike wobbling a bit with his laughter. That caused an uncomfortable shiver in the man behind him. He was actually scaring a Vulcan. That had to be the highlight of his birthday celebration.

He pulled to a stop at the edge of the academy, noting that it had been something of a drive. Well, shuttles did run the entire night in San Francisco and you were less likely to run into one of your professors in a bar away from campus, so it made sense. The Vulcan at his back withdrew himself immediately, but didn't stand.

"You okay?"

"I am physically well."

Jim laughed, glancing back at him. He was an interesting shade of green. And being very specific.

"That's good. Thought I was going to have to pry you off with a crowbar."

The green deepened. "I was instructed to maintain my hold with a high degree of pressure."

"I guess you're pretty good at following orders." Jim smirked. "What's a Vulcan doing in Starfleet?"

The man tensed. "That is of no importance to you."

Jim raised his hands defensively. "Okay, okay. Let me guess, though. Science track?"

The man nodded slightly. "I am minoring in language and cultures."

"So that was what you were observing, bar culture?" Jim rolled his shoulders a bit, realizing they were rather awkwardly sitting on his bike, trying to converse.

"I was." He admitted, undeterred by their positions.

"Learn anything interesting?"

"…" The man looked like he wanted to say something, but wasn't sure if he could. "I am curious about the…brawl etiquette…you mentioned while engaged in your fight."

"Oh…that?" Jim grinned, swinging himself around so he was fully facing the other man. "They aren't really rules, but most people follow them anyway. I guess you could call them…shillelagh law."

"Shillelagh law?"

"Yeah. It's an old term for a bar brawl." Jim shrugged. "I always thought it was pretty fitting."

Jim nearly laughed, because the man looked so thoughtful, sitting ram rod straight on the back of his bike. He leaned back a bit, and grimaced as soon as they bumped knees. The man was too lost in thought to really notice though. Which Jim immediately considered odd, because Vulcans _did not_ like being touched.

"Anyway." He said, looking the man over suspiciously. "There are really certain ways you're supposed to start a bar fight, and little things you aren't supposed to do. Weapons is one of those things. It's kind of something you learn as you go."

"How does one learn?"

"By getting in fights." Jim shrugged a little, hunching forward. "You just taught that guy back there the lesson on weapons."

The man blinked rapidly, eyes open in owlish wonder. "I did?"

"Yeah." Jim laughed. "When you use weapons, other people get involved and stop you."

At the look of understanding, Jim winked and leaned back stretching. He shuddered as dark eyes ran over him quickly, appraising him. That was new.

"What?"

"You received injuries."

"I happens."

"Why did you provoke that man to fight?"

"I _like_ fighting." Jim rolled his eyes. "It's a good release. I had been kind of hoping pick up a girl while I was there, but…"

"Why would you desire to lift a female?"

"Oh god." Jim laughed, falling forward to rest his head on the other man's chest as he attempted to regain control. "Oh god. Did you just…? Ha! That's priceless. Oh, god. Okay. Hold on. I though you were minoring in language."

Jim had sat back up and was fixing him with an amused look. The student straightened, the corners of his lips twitching in a frown.

"I am."

"Okay. You have to lean something called colloquialisms."

The Vulcan's eyes widened. "You were not speaking literally."

Jim laughed at the accusation. "No I wasn't. I meant I was going to take a girl back to my hotel room."

The man furrowed his brow, and Jim nearly died at how utterly childlike and cute the look was. "To what ends?"

"To what-! You have to be kidding me." Jim stared at him in horror. "I was going to have sex with her."

Hu. Who knew the guy could get his back even straighter?

"I had neglected to consider that possibility. A mistake, given humans' proclivity towards premarital sexual intercourse."

Jim scowled. "Hey."

"If that was your intent, why did you not?"

Jim winced. "I…look, I hate bigotry, okay? I didn't really want to leave you in that bar with those jackasses."

Both eyebrows again. Was that a blatant display of surprise he saw? Man this guy wasn't a very good Vulcan. Not that Jim had a problem with it. In fact, he found himself thrilled by the little display of impropriety.

"That was unnecessary." A prodding tone this time, not actually asking, but the inquiry was there.

"Yeah I know." Jim growled, crossing his arms protectively over his chest. "I guess I'm just a good guy. Besides, you saved my ass and served as a good distraction for Archer."

"Very well. Thank you for your consideration."

Jim blushed. Fuck. He was no good when it came to dealing with boy scouts. A large part of him wanted to punch the guy, because then he wouldn't feel so stupid. Good deeds were not his style, and here he was sitting on his bike with a complete stranger, parked outside _Starfleet Academy_, of all places. He grumbled an awkward your welcome.

"…May I enquire as to the nature of your relationship with Admiral Archer?"

Jim jolted, and looked over to see eyes shining with innocent curiosity. "He knows my mother. Him and his friends are trying to get me to enlist in Starfleet."

"A fruitless endeavor." The man noted, perfectly deadpan.

Jim's eyes widened a bit. "What is that supposed to mean?"

"You show a tendency for violence and promiscuity, neither trait being particularly suitable for any position in Starfleet."

Jim grit his teeth. "Oh yeah? Violence seems like a good requirement for security."

"You wish to display the same tendencies as the men you just engaged in a fight?" A raised eyebrow, smug bastard.

Jim snorted. "Yeah. No. I'm not joining Starfleet anyway."

There was a tense moment as they stared each other down. The Vulcan shifted his eyes first, flicking them towards the direction of the student dorms. When his eyes fell back to Jim, he stood from the bike.

"Thank you for your assistance."

"In your studies or for driving you back?" Jim couldn't quite keep the growl from his throat.

The man paused, inclining his head. "For driving me back. While your fight was educational, it was unnecessary for my observations. As was meeting you."

"Saying you could have watched the same thing even if I wasn't there?"

"I highly doubt that." The dark eyed Vulcan met his eyes again, amused. "You are no doubt entirely singular in the universe."

Jim grinned. "Heh, you don't say. Next time I meet you, you had better have a better grasp of Standard."

The man jolted, looking surprised. "I was unaware you intended to make my acquaintance again."

Jim shrugged. "I don't. Best learn just in case though, don't you think?"

"And if I do not?"

"You will." Jim said smugly. "Play innocent all you want, you will."

The man looked him over again, one eyebrow raised, as if he honestly had no idea what to make of him. "If I were to do so, what leads you to believe I would inform you of such?"

A wide smirk danced across Jim's face, mirrored in the other man's eyes. "I'll know."

"Fascinating." The man turned to leave.

"Hey, wait!" Jim called, getting his attention. "There's no way in hell I'm joining Starfleet, so tell me your name. Who knows, next time I'm in SanFran I may look you up."

"No." The man told him simply.

Jim's heart leapt into his throat, a bubbling mixture of amusement and curiosity propelling it. "Well alright then. I may not know who you are, but I will find out someday. You will tell me your name eventually."

The man raised an eyebrow. "If that is so, you will have to seek me here. I have no intent of leaving Starfleet."

Jim grimaced. "I'm not joining Starfleet for your name."

"A wise decision."

"Stop trying to talk me into it."

"I am doing no such thing."

"Yeah, uh-hu, sure." Jim smiled, shifting himself so he was sitting properly on his bike again. "If you ever want to find me, just to tell me your name, I'll probably be in Riverside, Iowa. Ask for Jimmy in any of the bars."

"I will not."

"Oh, and don't tell Archer."

"I have no reason to." There was an embarrassed, conspiratorial little look in his eyes, which thrilled Jim to no end.

"See you around bright eyes."

The man's face shifted to one of open shock and confusion as Jim sped out of the area. Alone on the road, racing back to his hotel, Jim couldn't stop the laughter. It was a crappy bar fight, he'd only gotten one drink, and he was going home alone, but this had to be his best birthday to date.

That said, if he was going to have to deal with recruiters every time he got in a fight, he might just start avoiding Starfleet bars.

… .. .

_Three years later._

"If you don't give me a name," Jim grinned at the pretty young cadet trying her best to ignore him, "I'm gonna have to make one up."

"It's Uhura."

"Uhura? No way! That's the name I was going to make up for you!" His grin widened, playing off of her annoyance with ease.

A small part of him bitterly added that it was only _part_ of her name. Another, even smaller part said he'd have preferred a greater challenge.

… … .. . .. … …

**Just a bit of randomness. Honestly, he made it through Starfleet academy without learning Uhura's first name **_**or**_** meeting the infamous Vulcan professor that programmed the bane of his existence? Clearly intentional.**


End file.
